A Rival's Kiss
by elfinmyth
Summary: From Harry's very first encounter with the Dark Lord, Voldemort has always insisted on using proper etiquette, not accounting for the possibility of escalation. HPLV. (Choose your own Ending!)
1. Chapter 1

Hello lovelies, I am back with another oneshot!  
I know it has been a long time, I have been writing stories over at my account for M-rated stories ^^''

My bèta sent me a post about types of kissing and I could not resist writing this short story.  
I unortunately cannot post the link because even with a lot of spaces, it is removed each time. If you want to see the images, please search 'the Science of Kissing Boston Post' on google.  
Basically, it shows three types of greeting: a kiss of hospitality (kiss on the forehead), a rival's embrace (forehead and nose touching) and an enthusiastic kiss (kiss on the lips) between two women, from the Boston Post in 1895. As the title suggests, only the middle one is important for this story.

While this story turned out a lot more serious than I thought, it was supposed to be rather humorous and not really to be taken very serious. As it still has some of those elements, I still included the genre 'Humor'

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Harry Potter universe and this work of fanfiction is not sold for profit.

Enjoy!

* * *

Frozen to the spot, Harry watched as Quirrel unwrapped the turban. So much had been revealed in the past few minutes that he could barely wrap his head around it. And now this… what was going on? His teacher turned and he could do nothing but stare… stare at what he was faced with. Another man… barely a man, red eyes piercing in his soul.

''Harry Potter,'' the face whispered. ''We meet at last. Ah, but where are my manners… Quirrel, bring me closer.''

With horror, Harry watched as Quirrel awkwardly tried to shuffle backwards, so the thing did not break eye-contact once as it came ever closer. Voldemort… this was the one who had murdered Harry's parents, the one who had spread fear and terror over the country so much that none dared speak his name. The chalk-white face came to a halt right in front of him and Quirrel sank to his knees so Voldemort was on eye-height with Harry. Still feeling like a statue, Harry didn't react when the strangest thing happened and a cold forehead touched his, Voldemort's nearly flat nose pressed against his. It didn't even last a second, a piercing pain shooting through his forehead while those eyes seemed to penetrate his very being.

The pain made him quickly step back, nearly stumbling up the stairs behind him. ''What… what are you doing?'' he stuttered as Quirrel rose once more and composed himself. Voldemort's eyes were narrowed and wrinkles had appeared on the face as if it hadn't hurt Harry alone.

''Because of you, I am reduced to this state,'' Voldemort said with bitterness in his voice. ''A wisp of my former self, having to rely on others to even hold a shape. I am giving you the respect that my rival deserves, nothing more, nothing less. But we need not be enemies forever, boy. Once you hand me the stone in your pocket, I can return to former glory and give you anything you wish for. Your life… your parent's lives… Beg for mercy like your parents did and I will grant it to you.''

''YOU LIE!'' Harry yelled, mind racing. Voldemort knew about the Stone he had… Why hadn't the man taken it when he'd been so close? What did he mean with respect? ''Why would I ever join someone like you? The world is better off without you!''

Voldemort didn't even look angry, he merely smiled. ''Such a Gryffindor through and through. A pity. Bravery is good, but you clearly need to be taught some sense. Your father was brave too as he fought me, before he fell by my wand. Your mother was brave as she begged for me to spare you. I would have granted her mercy if she'd only have stepped aside.''

''You are sick,'' Harry spat, and the snake-like face twisted with fury.

''You will regret denying my offer. You are a fool, Harry Potter, and I will hunt you down if it is the last thing I'll do if you do not give me what I want. The Stone, boy, **now**.''

Harry didn't answer at all, weirded out by the man's behaviour from before. He wanted to spend not a second longer in this room and turned around, fully intending to rush straight through the fire again at the entrance.

He didn't get far, Quirrel somehow managed to cross the distance in a second and landed on Harry's back, wrestling to get the stone. The fight escalated quickly, with shouting back and forth until Quirrel was screaming whenever Harry touched his skin and Harry screamed with him from the pain on his forehead. Weakened, the world slipped from his grasp.

* * *

''There is something I don't understand,'' he said, much later. The landscape whoosed by as they left Hogwarts by the train, and he sat with the two best friends he could ever have wished for, trying to take in the moment before being dropped off at the Dursleys again. ''I completely forgot to ask professor Dumbledore in the hospital wing, but there was something really strange when I spoke to Volde- You-Know-Who,'' he said with a guilty look at Ron, who had made a near inhuman noise. Hermione instantly leaned in.

''Strange?'' she asked, eyebrows raised.

''Yes. Right after he showed himself, after he spoke my name, he came close and…'' Harry gestured with his hands. ''Kind of pressed his face against mine.''

''He **kissed-**'' Ron chortled, which had Harry shaking his head wildly in embarrassment.

''NO! No, it was kind of a nose touch. And forehead. He blabbered something about showing respect to an enemy or something.''

''I've read about that!'' Hermione exclaimed, and Harry breathed out in relief at having someone at his side to explain the situation he'd struggled to understand. ''In the book _'Culture: Courtesy and Chivalry',_ several ways of greeting were discussed that are used amongst wizards and witches. Apparently, it is good etiquette for great rivals to greet each other this way, so there is no mistaking of intentions.

''I've never heard of this,'' Ron protested. ''And I come from a whole family of Wizards!''

''Well, you'd also never heard of Flamel, **the** most influential Alchemist of our age,'' Hermione said with a tone that made clear how much she thought Ron's knowledge of Wizarding customs was worth. ''Anyways, being greeted like this is a great honour, although it does mean that that person is out for your blood.''

''Fantastic,'' Harry groaned. ''Not like I didn't know that already, he did literally try to kill me twice now.'' He sighed and curled up on the soft-padded bench. ''Thanks, Hermione. The pondering would have killed me this summer if you hadn't read every book in the library.''

''You're very welcome,'' she answered with a bright smile. ''But remember, it is only used for arch-enemies and so, please don't go shoving your face into Malfoy's or else he'll think you really want him dead.''

''**I** want him dead,'' Ron interjected. ''Should I?''

Harry laughed and threw a book at his friend, ignoring Hermione's terrified gasp as a page ripped.

* * *

The rearranged letters burned in the air, Riddle standing next to them looking smug.

I am Lord Voldemort… How could he have missed this? The time added up, the Heir of Slytherin, Riddle's words… **how** had Harry been able to believe otherwise? Dread started filling him.

''So, Harry…'' Riddle breathed, the smile on his face turning into a smirk. ''Now you know.''

''You are my enemy,'' Harry muttered. A memory flashed in his head. It had been nearly exactly one year ago, hadn't it, that he'd faced Voldemort and fought over the Philosopher's stone.

''Indeed,'' the older teen whispered. Harry didn't even try to step back, trying to glare as hard at Riddle as he could possibly muster as the Slytherin stepped closer and their foreheads touched, an unpleasant tingle spreading over his it as the memory that was still not completely **real** touched him. It lasted a few seconds and no pain came this time, which was a huge relief. Riddle straightened again and swept past him, continuing his lengthy explanation while Harry could only listen, feeling thrown off and more than a bit confused from the not-quite-physical contact.

Much later, when it was all over, basilisk tooth still in hand and the diaries' ink dropping on the cold stone floor, when the adrenaline of running and fighting rushed from his body, Harry could only keep thinking of that one moment. He knew its meaning now, but** still**. Shaking his head, he pulled himself up, there were more important things to do. Checking on Ginny, for example.

Ginny!

All thoughts about Riddle were banished from his mind as he rushed over to the girl.

* * *

White steam filled the graveyard, clouding Harry's vision after he had witnessed one of the darkest pieces of magic he'd ever seen. With desperation, he wished that the thing in Wormtail's arms would not have survived being thrown in boiling water. On the other hand, he also felt a slight curiosity, and a strange twinge of worry. He'd only spoken to Voldemort twice: once in his first year and once with the diary. Why did he feel worry of all things? There was absolutely nothing that bound them, and Voldemort had tried to trick him both times with honeyed words.

Yet, the slight sigh that was released from Harry's mouth as the outline of a man became visible through the fog, was one of relief, as much as he wanted to deny it. Would Voldemort speak to him again? Say his name, look into his eyes and grant him recognition? For that was what it came down to in the end. Even while disliking the title of 'Boy-Who-Lived, he'd been mocked so much by the Prophet and other students this year, that a hint of being seen for who he was, was really overdue. He'd battled monsters, faced a man whom many wished to deny the existence of so much that they couldn't even handle his name, but** he** was met with ridicule?

''Robe me,'' Voldemort spoke in a cold, slightly hissing tone, and Harry felt a slight drop of disappointment in his stomach over being ignored. Perhaps better, he thought after. He was already bound to a tombstone, having a grown man not only press up to him but being naked while doing it, was maybe a tad much. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks at the thought and pointedly looked elsewhere, his eyes only sliding back to the figure when the Dark Lord was done examining his new body and finally spoke: ''Harry, so we meet again. Three years it has been now, hasn't it? So much has changed…''

The silky, black robes billowed in the wind as Voldemort moved to stand right in front of him, scarlet eyes staring down with fascination. The man made a jerking motion with his fingers as if hesitating, then lifted it to Harry's face. They surely both remembered that time where their brief touch had caused a searing pain. Now, as a nail carefully raked over Harry's cheek, it was only Harry who screamed, and Voldemort's grin stretched wider, a hissing chuckle falling from his lips as Harry tried to twist away.

The attempt was futile, the ropes binding him tightly to the headstone of Voldemort's father. ''It seems this has changed too,'' the Dark Lord spoke, eyes gleaming as they came closer, hands cupping Harry's face. The gesture could have been mistaken for gentle, but each touch made Harry's blood boil and his head burst. He was sure that his head would split open. ''Ah, but I cannot be so unwelcome, I suppose…''

Harry blinked as the pain left him, blurry shapes coming into focus again as the pain faded and his glasses were pushed more tightly on his nose. ''I had wished for you to be my enemy no longer, Harry,'' the man murmured, seemingly in deep regret. ''Everything would have been so much easier then. Alas, you keep ruining my plans.''

Voldemort's cool, smooth forehead sank against his, Harry's nose being pressed once again against Voldemort's ophic one. He felt the other's breath on his lips, a puff of icy air. The contact lingered as they stared each other down. Or that was what Harry thought was going on anyways. His whole body was rigid, and he tried his hardest to concentrate on glaring instead of the fingers that brushed hair behind his ears now. ''I will kill you,'' the other whispered softly. ''You are worthy of being killed by me personally.''

''What a great honour,'' Harry sarcastically retorted. ''You know, I'll do you one better,** you** are worthy of being killed by** me**.''

Voldemort drew away, laughing. ''Such defiance in the face of death!'' he exclaimed. ''I admire that in you, Harry… So many people merely turn into a blubbering mess.'' He sighed dramatically and pointedly looked at Wormtail, who was still holding the shaking stump of his arm, wailing quietly. ''Your arm,'' he drawled.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back into the tombstone as Voldemort spoke of calling his Death Eaters, a sharp sting of pain making the teen crack an eye open again, seeing Voldemort withdraw a finger from a gleaming black mark on Pettigrew's arm.

When Voldemort's little monologue about his family history was over and the first Death Eaters started arriving, a mass of cloaked and robed people, did Harry truly grasp what had happened.

The Dark Lord had returned, and he would stop at nothing to gain power again.

Unfortunately, Harry stood in the way of that.

* * *

''I can't believe I survived,'' he whispered, feeling miserable. ''Everything just happened in such a blur, a rush of adrenaline, once he'd released me.''

''Why did he release you in the first place? That was a stupid move and he didn't sound like an unintelligent man,'' Hermione enquired, always the one with the right questions to ask.

Harry covered his face with his hands, rubbing the skin until it was sore so he would feel something beyond the numbness setting in after accepting what had happened. Cedric was dead. Voldemort was back… and who would believe him?

''He has some… weird thing about etiquette,'' Harry mumbled. ''Said he would give me a chance to fight, that niceties must be observed to show the superiority of magical kind as opposed to Muggles who stab each other in the back. He somehow expected that I could duel. As if, after that one disastrous lesson from Lockhart and Snape. We bowed to each other, he insisted on it and I supposed that it was better to go along. Then he hit me with a Cruciatus curse right away. Merlin, I didn't know that anything could hurt that much.''

Ron patted him awkwardly on the back. ''We're glad you're still here. If he'd used a different Unforgivable…''

''Yeah,'' he muttered. ''But he didn't. He even gave…** pauses** in between to recover.''

''He was toying with you,'' Hermione interjected, playing a hand on his knee, her lips trembling.

''I…. I don't know.'' Was that the truth? Voldemort had said he would die that evening, had the duel only been a mockery? Harry hadn't been able to do much, that was true, but he'd almost thought that the Dark Lord was hesitant at times to actually do the deed and get rid of him forever. The man had even told him snippets of his past, his family, about the Riddle house on top of the hill where his Muggle father had lived. **Why**? The only attempts to truly get him killed was by trying to have him beg for death under the Imperius curse, after it had already been shown that Harry could resist that spell, and then at the very end as he'd been making his escape. Although that wasn't entirely true, there had been that one Killing curse fired at him that had caused the golden cage of light to appear… Priori Incantatem, Dumbledore had called it before.

''Could you guys… leave me alone for a while?'' he quietly asked. ''I need to think.''

They nodded with worried eyes and retreated, leaving him all alone in the dorms, alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Bellatrix' shrieks of fury were marvellous to hear as Harry kept taunting her, blood pumping in his ears even as he once again was filled with all-encompassing pain. ''He knows you failed,'' he laughed at the raging woman. ''No-one will get that stupid prophecy now!''

''ACCIO PROPHECY. NO, LIAR!'' she screamed, more and more desperate as Harry watched her. ''MASTER!''

''You really think he'll show up here?'' he spoke, raising his wand to point at her. She had killed Sirius, she deserved anything he could throw at her. Anything at all.

''Didn't you?'' A soft, cold voice spoke behind him. Harry held his breath and whirled around, heart sinking. There he stood, removing a black hood with skeletal hands, just as terrible as Harry remembered him to be. ''Such little faith in me, Harry,'' the man purred, moving closer slowly, as if stalking prey. Abruptly, he halted and turned to Bellatrix. ''You disappointed me. You and the others. Couldn't deal with a few teenagers quick enough to prevent the Order of the Phoenix showing up? Pathetic… Get out of my sight!''

Bellatrix' tear-stricken faced touched the floor as she bowed as deep as she possibly could, muttering desperate apologies that Voldemort clearly didn't listen to before she disappeared. Harry's wand was still raised, but he had no intention of firing spells. He observed Voldemort, who inspected the room. ''Are you…'' he started, then shook his head. ''Shouldn't we…'' he made a vague gesture to his head, and Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

''I don't know boy, should we?'' The man hissed, sounding very displeased in a way that made Harry almost feel guilty, as if **he** had done something bad. No, this man wanted him dead, there was absolutely no reason to feel as if he shouldn't** disappoint** Voldemort. With a few strides, the Dark Lord was upon him and stared down with burning hatred. ''You destroyed our prophecy. The reason why you were branded my enemy, gone. Joined Dumbledore's little band of rebels as if you're nothing more than just another puppet soldier in his game,'' Voldemort spat. His hand shot out and curled around Harry's neck, drawing him closer with a sharp jerking motion, yet keeping Harry at such a distance that their foreheads didn't quite meet yet. The expected pain at the touch didn't come and Harry remembered that somehow, the other could control this now.

''A reason I knew nothing about before,'' Harry retorted. ''And I still went along.''

Voldemort blinked rapidly, the only sign of surprise he would show. ''Ah yes, I heard before… I thought Dumbledore would have told you, why I came for you specifically all those years ago. Why you are the one and only person I will ever deem my ultimate foe. But are you still? I gave you a chance to prove yourself, to show your hidden powers at the graveyard. There was… nothing.''

Behind Voldemort, Harry saw movement, but he didn't dare look away from the ruby eyes that held his. ''Tom, don't be foolish,'' Dumbledore spoke. Harry was pushed away roughly, barely catching himself as he fell on the marble floor. A fight ensued and escalated quickly, Harry trying to warn Dumbledore whenever he could. It was close, too close. Had Fawkes not come, that Killing curse would have hit… he couldn't lose two people on one day.

The fire died, the water crashed back down in the fountain and for a moment, everything was still. Dumbledore's and his gaze crossed, Voldemort nowhere to be seen. Confused, Harry tried to get to his feet again. ''Stay there!'' the Headmaster shouted. There was a tinge of panic. But wasn't it over? Had Voldemort not fled?

''AARGH!'' Needles wormed its way into his brain, a thousand knives slid him open from the inside. Agony beyond belief. Red eyes swam in his vision, coils of a black serpent tightened around his body. Where was he? What was this? ''Stop it! Stop, please!'' he cried out. The creature loosened its hold, the pain ebbing away. He still couldn't see much, the Atrium had disappeared completely. There stood Voldemort again, black robes against another canvas of even darker, purer black.

''Are you begging me now?'' the man spoke. ''I wonder, is it for life or death?''

''Why are you doing this?''

''Where do we stand now, Harry?'' The Dark Lord asked in return. ''Will you keep fighting?''

''Of course!'' he shouted back. ''As long as I keep standing here, I will oppose you. Your Death Eaters, your spies, you… you all want to ruin this amazing world!''

An almost sad smile crossed Voldemort's face fleetingly. ''Amazing?'' he whispered. ''I wish to make it so...''

Harry couldn't reply, waking with a shock, and staring with even more shock at the white hand that was held out in front of him. Voldemort didn't look any less menacing than before, but the fact that Harry was still alive gave him the courage to accept the hand and be pulled to his feet. ''Do me proud then,'' the Dark Lord breathed, holding Harry in a tight grip. Giving in to their odd ritual with an eagerness that he hadn't expected, Harry made a move and pressed his forehead and nose against Voldemort's. ''Next time we meet, Harry Potter, I expect great things from you. Train, fight, be the foe you should be.''

A fireplace behind them flared up and several pops of apparition could be heard. Voldemort muttered a curse under his breath, pulled away and disapparated, but not before gasps and screams filled the air. Harry sat back down on the floor, trembling all over. He couldn't believe that he'd survived yet another encounter with his nemesis.

''Harry…'' It was Dumbledore, whose expression was one of grief and pain and several unreadable emotions. Tired beyond belief, the teen only shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. It didn't matter that he was alive. Sirius, his godfather, was still dead, and he hadn't even been able to avenge the man. He'd just stood there…

Whatever Voldemort's reasoning was, Harry would follow the advice. He'd become stronger, so the next time they stood face-to-face, he wouldn't feel so helpless.

* * *

Harry blindly reached out to Dobby, fingers grasping for the elf's hand, his one escape from the drawing room, which was now in shambles with the broken chandelier in its middle. He looked over his shoulder, saw the pale faces of the Malfoys, and Bellatrix' furious expression. Something flew to them. Something silver, sharp.

''No!'' He wheezed. Harry's fingers slipped away again as he threw himself in front of it. He needed to protect his friends, they had to get out of here alive! A loud bang told him they had reached safety. The white-hot, blinding pain in his scar and in his chest told him he was not. Gasping for air, he looked at the knife that stuck in his chest, and he started laughing, unable to stop. Two years he had trained. He'd seen Dumbledore fall from the tower, he'd survived a lake filled with Inferi, had nearly drowned in the icy forest pond… and now he'd go down by a common knife, without meeting his self-proclaimed enemy again?

He fell sideways, the room blurry as his knees gave out. He could feel blood seeping from his chest. All of the books he'd gone through to learn more spells, to become strong enough to face Voldemort, and his first reflex had still been to physically throw himself between his friends and the incoming danger. Stupid… Voldemort should have searched for a smarter rival.

He heard shouting, then screaming, a high-pitched shriek even louder than Hermione's had been before, when Bellatrix had tortured her. ''Don't you dare die now,'' someone growled, dragging him up. Peeking through his lashes with the greatest difficulty, Harry saw the enraged expression on Voldemort's face.

''I tried, you know,'' Harry mumbled. ''To fight you in any way I could. To become worthy…'' he laughed again, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. A fine spray of red stained the white face in front of him. ''I killed several of your Horcruxes, is that good enough?'' he muttered, chuckling.

Voldemort froze. If possible, his pale face whitened even further, eyes widening as he took in Harry's words. ''What?'' he whispered. ''No, no… that cannot be.'' Shock transformed into a terrifying fury. '**'Potter**!'' Voldemort spat.

Harry only kept giggling, finding the entire situation somehow funny. Had he been hit by another spell? ''You're slipping on your etiquette,'' he reminded Voldemort, somehow finding the strength to raise his arms, winding one around the man's waist to hold onto and one landing in the crook of the Dark Lord's neck. ''It's been a long time since we met…'' he whispered, sighing in relief as he felt the familiar weight of Voldemort's face against his.

''Don't think this is over, you will not escape me this easily. Not before I have my revenge.'' Each hissed word was cold and sharp as a frozen shard of glass.

Harry gasped at the knife was roughly pulled from his chest and something else plunged into the hole painfully. He wanted to say something, but only bloody splutters came out. With disbelief, he saw that it was Voldemort's wand, the white handle all smudged red. A feeling of warmth spread through his body, starting from the centre and spreading all the way to his tingling fingertips. Something hit his back and he realised that he had been lowered of what was left of Malfoy's expensive couch.

''My Lord!'' someone cried. ''Surely you won't-''

''Don't you **dare** tell **me** what I should or shouldn't do, Bella! I made it** clear** that he was to be killed by** my** hand! You threw a **Muggle** weapon at him!''

As the warmth increased, Harry's senses returned. He groaned, realising with sudden horror that in what he had believed to be the throes of death, he'd revealed that he'd been hunting down Horcruxes. All of his chances, the moments of surprise… all gone because he hadn't wanted to leave his enemy disappointed. An enemy that was kneeling in front of the couch Harry lay on, a concentrated expression on his face as he was patching Harry up. ''Why…'' he muttered in disbelief, an angry glare his only answer. ''Don't want to be left without someone to fight?'' he chuckled weakly, the first speculation that came to mind. Voldemort's shoulders tensed and Harry shot up, wincing at the sharp sting it caused. ''Seriously?'' he exclaimed.

''Be quiet, Potter!'' Voldemort hissed, very clearly displeased. Harry's eyes wandered over the other occupants of the room; Narcissa, Draco and Bellatrix all stood still like frozen statues. It appeared that none of them knew how to react to this new turn of events. Neither did Harry and, if he could judge the situation even slightly accurately, the Dark Lord was winging it too. The teen lay back down with a pained grunt, thoughts whirling.

It made sense, in a way. Dumbledore was dead now. The Ministry was in Voldemort's hands. Sure, some Order members remained, but the few that were still active didn't do much damage. Voldemort had always liked instilling fear in others, even as a child he'd done his best to act out his aggression to people he didn't like or whom he though had wronged him. Harry was indeed the Chosen one… just not how everyone had envisioned it.

_~And what happens now?~_ he carefully asked. Without thinking much about it, he reached out and wiped some of his own blood from Voldemort's cheek. The man froze and gave him a wary look. It was only then that Harry realised he had accidentally spoken Parseltongue. Perhaps Voldemort's face was so serpentine that it triggered Harry's ability. Before, he'd always had to at least envision snakes… Had the Dark Lord even known about Harry being a Parselmouth? He must have had, the trap in Godric's Hollow wouldn't have worked otherwise. Snape most likely told him, or Malfoy…

_~I'll have to think about it,~_ the man answered. _~I cannot let you leave and continue your path of destruction. I'll have to stop your little friends as well… None can be allowed to put my immortality at risk. I congratulate you, even I could not have foreseen that you would actually manage to damage me in such a way.~_ Harry raised his eyebrows at that. Was that…** respect** he heard in the man's voice? ''It appears I did choose well,'' Voldemort chuckled lightly. ''Narcissa, keep watch over the boy, he is not to leave. Bella, stay away from him, I want no further… unfortunate accidents. I shall return tomorrow.'' He rose, wand sliding out of Harry's chest, the hole closing completely as it did so. Without a further word, he swept out, only making a broad gesture with his wand once more, transforming the room back to its former glory within seconds, a thrum of magic rushing through the air that was stronger than anything Harry had felt before.

* * *

The day was spent in a constant state of wariness and anxiety. The Malfoys didn't speak to him, not even when Narcissa brought him food. The soup and bread was probably supposed to be a prisoner's meal, but it was of such great quality that, compared to what he'd had to scavenge in the woods before, it felt like a feast. Food made him think of his friends however, and he desperately hoped that they were out of Voldemort's reach.

What would happen now? He clearly couldn't escape, Dobby had been their only chance of getting through the wards. And now the elf had shown that ability, Harry highly doubted that the Malfoys wouldn't have taken precautions to ensure it couldn't happen again. Through the window, he could see the tall iron gates that surrounded the property… No chance of escape there either, he knew how well-guarded old homes like these were.

''Potter…'' his head shot up, and he narrowed his eyes at the figure that lingered in the doorway, looking very uncomfortable.

''Malfoy,'' he greeted. Honestly, he wasn't sure what to say to the boy. He didn't look anything like the bully he'd been at Hogwarts. Thin and gaunt now, he looked rather unhealthy. Yesterday, he'd at first refused to identify Harry until being prodded further. The boy who hadn't been able to kill Dumbledore…

He thus opted for: ''You look like shit.''

''Better than you, scarhead,'' the other muttered with no real venom behind the words. ''Can I come in?''

''You ask the prisoner? It's your house, Malfoy. Anything in particular you want?''

Draco shuffled inside and closed the door, sitting down on the only chair in the room while Harry still lounged on the bed. ''What happened yesterday… I'm sorry. I don't like Granger, but she didn't deserve-'' Malfoy made a weird noise and looked away, paler than before.

''Never saw someone being tortured before, did you?'' he asked.

Malfoy pressed his lips together for a moment before answering ''I did. I had to, but only ever with the Cruciatus. With magic, not… - I never saw someone cutting another person up like that. It is a lot worse. Potter, you and the Dark Lord-'' he suddenly said, a tad more forcefully, and it was clear that this was what had really been on his mind.

''What about us?''

The other struggled to compose himself. ''What **was** that yesterday?''

Harry shrugged. ''Honestly? I think that he has been obsessed over killing me for so long that he's afraid to lose one more purpose in life when I really am gone. That's the only explanation I can come up with for him healing me.''

''Well, that too, I more meant the thing with your… your faces. You kind of clung to him.''

''Oh. Er, that was just… our greeting, you know. From the very first meeting, he was always rather strict on etiquette for some reason and we are enemies…'' From Malfoy's face he could read that the Slytherin had no idea what Harry was talking about. ''Different ways of greeting! Great foes or rivals greet like this!'' he spoke, not sure why Malfoy was being so dense. ''You grew up bathing in wizarding rules, surely you know your own culture!''

Malfoy didn't get a chance to answer, for the door swung open and a rather frazzled Narcissa stormed in. ''Draco, there you are! You have to leave, the Dark Lord-''

''No need to fret, Narcissa,'' Voldemort's smooth voice spoke from the darkness of the hallways before he came into view. The woman tried to compose herself, only her eyes looking terrified as she subtly positioned herself in between Draco and the Dark Lord. She might as well have been air, for Voldemort only had eyes for Harry.

''So you're still here, good. I was almost afraid you'd… slipped through the cracks again,'' he spoke with satisfaction.'' He sat down on the bed and pulled Harry closer in their customary greeting. Harry used it to stare directly in the man's eyes and search for any hint of malice or cruelty, any sign of that the man had succeeded in finding and hurting Harry's friends. ''They're still alive for now,'' Voldemort reassured him. ''And will stay that way if you don't create any difficulties. They'll never succeed in their holy mission now,'' he grinned, sharp teeth blinking, less than half an inch from Harry's lips. The pressure against Harry's forehead increased as the man leaned harder against it. ''I made sure of it.''

A movement of muscles told Harry that the man wanted to move away again, so he followed, not wanting to break contact quite yet. So many crazy things had happened that he needed this one, stabilising thing that had stayed the same throughout all those years, even if it was a moment shared with the one who had brought him and the world so much grief. How ironic was it, that Voldemort held his world together at this very moment? Harry didn't know why the other indulged in his unspoken wish, but he was grateful for it. Only once he felt grounded enough, did he lean back again, refusing to look into the ruby eyes that were following his every movement. Instead, Harry glanced at the Malfoys, having forgotten for a moment that they were even there. Both wore perturbed expressions.

''My Lord,'' Narcissa started in a wavering tone. ''Should I…. prepare other rooms for our guest? Better rooms?''

The Dark Lord frowned and mustered her. ''Why? He can be glad to not be in a dungeon at the moment… Why isn't he? You do** have** cells.''

''Oh… I thought, the mood yesterday suggested… and now…'' she trailed off, her eyes flicking in between Harry and her master. ''I was unsure of your intentions towards the boy,'' she stiffly finished her sentence.

''Are those not clear as day?'' Voldemort sneered at her. ''He is a danger to me, my greatest rival. How could you possibly have missed that? What good is etiquette when none here are educated about it?'' He grew more irritated, his control slipped and Harry's head started hurting again.

The Malfoys exchanged a glance.

''I sincerely apologise, my Lord,'' Narcissa murmured. ''My education must have had a few gaps. If you would please… clear it up for me, I would be grateful.''

''Potter said something about rivals greetings before, mother,'' Draco hastened to say, possibly to prevent the Dark Lord from blowing up completely. Harry really was getting confused now. Draco had been an arrogant bully before and undoubtedly hadn't paid much attention during childhood lessons about proper behaviour. But Narcissa? A Black? Something wasn't adding up here.

''_Culture: Courtesy and Chivalry,''_ Harry spoke, getting slightly annoyed by the whole situation. It was bad enough that he had been captured with no immediate way out and a Dark Lord hanging the fate of his friends on his behaviour. Couldn't everyone at least be polite enough to not ask stupid questions? ''Maybe you should read it.'' Hogwarts had the book in its collection and after Hermione had told Harry about it, he'd borrowed it once from the library to look up many different customs in the Wizarding World, from 'Dress-like-a-Muggle' day in Wales which promoted intercultural mingling with Muggles, either to woo them or to pick the next sacrifice -the writer had been a bit vague there- to ten ways to convey messages with wand positions to avoid speaking.

''I, for once, wholeheartedly agree with Harry,'' Voldemort spoke, staring at Narcissa and Draco when the woman released a surprised chortle, covering it up miserably with a cough a second later.

''My Lord, surely you jest,'' she spoke nervously, shrinking back a bit as the Dark Lord rose from the bed, magic starting to sizzle in the air, which somehow became smaller and colder. ''I… I mean, the author was a fraud!''

''What?'' the man hissed. Narcissa opened her mouth and looked desperately at her son, who seemed utterly lost for words. 'Explain!''

She took a small gulp of air and smoothed the crinkles in her robes. ''Well, the book was written in… around the 1860's if I remember correctly.''

''1891,'' Voldemort corrected her, annoyed.

''Yes, that. The book was met with mixed reception at first, and then landed much critique for trying to push its own agenda, describing rites and customs that didn't exist at all, which the author wished to create. Many pictures in it featured members of the same sex greeting each other in various ways, and while that wasn't too much of a scandal anymore by that time, it appeared that the author had gotten in a major fight years back with one of her crushes. To still incite physical contact, she made up a custom of a 'rival's kiss', whereas nothing of the sort existed, in the hope that it would become wide-spread by people who had read the book and took it at face value. Not many copies of the book remain nowadays due to this.'' Narcissa cleared her throat, looking highly uncomfortable. Harry gaped at her, then looked at Voldemort in alarm, who was absolutely livid, judging by the pain in Harry's scar.

''**Obliviate**!'' the Dark Lord snarled, the faces of both Malfoys becoming blank for a moment before they marched out the door, which slammed close behind them.

''I… I also didn't know,'' was the first thing Harry said.

''We shall never talk about this again, Potter,'' Voldemort hissed. ''Never!''

* * *

''So, he let you… go?'' Ron asked, looking at Harry as if he had grown a second head. They all sat together in the living room of Shell cottage, drinking tea. Only Mr Ollivander and Griphook had stayed upstairs, and Dobby was preparing some food for all of them in the kitchen. He'd just finished telling them of his stay at the manor, although he'd left out a few details, including the exact reason** why** Voldemort had suddenly become incredibly angry.

Harry still refused to meet his friends' eyes, staring at the wand he held. It was a spare one that Mr Ollivander had given him before, since his own was still broken and the one he'd had on him at Malfoy manor had been taken away. ''Threw me out is a better term for it,'' he muttered. ''He was pretty unstable. For a moment, I was so certain he'd off me then and there.''

''And then he didn't. Again.''

Harry sighed. ''Not that it matters. Our scheme is out, he knows what we were after, he's bound to have already gathered the remaining Horcruxes and increased their security.''

''That still means we are just as far as before,'' Hermione spoke in encouragement. ''We only knew about the whereabouts of the cup, but imagine. If he moved it** out** of Gringotts, the best-guarded place in this country, isn't that only good for us? Plus, we couldn't find out anything about the others before, so we lose nothing if he moves them someplace else.''

Harry shook his head. ''It only worked because we had the element of surprise. Sure, he took precautions so no-one could reach them, but now he knows we actively are hunting for them? No chance.''

''There is always **something** you can do,'' Bill spoke, having been silent during the entire conversation, merely listening. Harry hadn't minded. Now he'd been so stupid as to let such an important piece of info slip, they needed all help they could get. Dumbledore had trusted them to keep it a secret, but that was all in shambles now. ''Think of what your best possible option could be and pursue that as quickly as you can to avoid time running out on you.''

''Hogwarts,'' Harry said instantly. Ron and Hermione exchanged a desperate look. ''No, Look. I know we wanted to go to Gringotts before, but I am absolutely certain that it's a bad idea. The Goblins there don't care about the current leader of Wizarding Britain killing some intruders. At Hogwarts, we have support from students and teachers alike.''

''There is** no** evidence for any Horcrux even having been there in the past!'' Hermione exclaimed.

Harry let out a frustrated noise. ''There** has** to be. It was the only home he ever had! Most of the Horcruxes are related to the Founders, of course he'd hide one there. And even if it's not anymore, even if he moved it yesterday, the teachers should have noticed something. If he visited there yesterday, then we can be sure of it and… and perhaps find a clue about its current whereabouts! Who knows, perhaps he's so confident about his control over Hogwarts that he moved all of them there!'' he exclaimed, getting more optimistic again. ''What are our other options? As Bill said, we need to act quickly.''

Having no other choice, the others reluctantly went along with his plan.

* * *

He hadn't been wrong, of that Harry was sure now. If it was for better or worse remained to be seen. Many members of the DA were searching the castle now, he'd been able to inform McGonagall, who unfortunately didn't know much. Voldemort had been there yesterday indeed, but he was at Hogwarts every week for inspections, and the visit had been on his regular day and time. It didn't have to mean anything. Not so easily discouraged, Harry kept going, grasping onto straws. Luna thought the object they were looking for might be Ravenclaw's diadem, which didn't help much when he found out it had been lost for centuries.

Wouldn't that just be something for Voldemort though? To find a treasure that so many people had sought for ages and turn it into a mere vessel to hold the man's soul? Nearly all other Horcruxes had been similar, pieces of incredible historical worth, belonging to the other Founders. But even if it was the diadem… where had it been hidden? And was it still here?

Filled with doubts, he nonetheless followed Luna to the Ravenclaw tower to get a look at Ravenclaw's statue. Knowing how it looked was better than having nothing at all. Or it would have been, had it not led him straight towards one of the Death Eaters.

''Quicker than excepted,'' Alecto Carrow spoke, blocking the exit. ''My Lord said he'd expect you to come here somewhere this week.''

They ran as quickly as possible after Luna stunned the man, hiding under the invisibility cloak Harry had brought. He gasped in pain a few times as blurry images swam in his mind. Voldemort knew now, Carrow had touched the Mark only for a second, but it had been enough. Having apparently expected Harry's move, he was also coming** fast**.

''Run into the opposite direction!'' he urged Luna. ''I don't have much time. Go!''

There was no time left at all. He considered informing professor McGonagall once more, then rejected the idea. Nothing could be done to up the school security in time. Perhaps if he hadn't blurted out his goal before, the Dark Lord would first have checked the locations of the Horcruxes. Now, Harry was pretty sure he'd done that yesterday already, and came straight here. The only thing left to do was to fight, without any of his friends being hurt if he could prevent it.

Harry started sprinting on his own. He had to get out of the castle, to a place where no bystanders could be hurt. The Gryffindor practically flew down flights of staircases, until he finally reached the entrance hall and pushed the doors open with all of his might. He stumbled through the gap and looked up, freezing.

Voldemort was already standing there, waiting calmly, wand in hand.

''Saving me the trouble of searching for you, Harry? So eager to face me again? It has barely been a day,'' the man mocked. ''I knew that you crave attention, but this is a bit much.''

''I can't let you hurt anyone else,'' Harry replied, letting the oak doors fall shut with a bang.

The man removed his cloak and folded it up calmly. ''Why would I? Hogwarts belongs to me. The few pests that still cry out for Dumbledore or you will fall silent soon enough. Even the teachers have bowed down to my regime. I must ask why you thought coming here was a good idea. I had expected it eventually but… the move is rather desperate. As I told you before, you won't succeed in damaging any other parts of my soul. None are here today.'' Harry's heart sank at the rather chastising words.

''One is now,'' he said, acting braver than he felt. ''You came. Last time I destroyed your body, it took you thirteen years to return. Thirteen more would be plenty of time to hunt down the remains.''

''Yes, Dumbledore should have used that opportunity when he had it,'' Voldemort spoke. ''It won't take thirteen years again, even if I perish in the future.'' He let the words sink in for a moment. ''Also, you sound rather confident that you can defeat me today. The first time was luck and circumstance.''

Harry shook his head. ''No, it wasn't.''

Voldemort straightened, and Harry finally had the feeling to have the man's attention. ''I know the prophecy now. Dumbledore showed me. I am destined to destroy you, and if it wouldn't have happened because of my mother, it would have happened in a different way. You know this, it is why you went after me in the first place, because I am the only person on this world who can cause your demise. It will happen again and again. I am through running from you.''

''What fiery words…'' Slowly and deliberately, Voldemort took a few steps back and lifted his wand, making a slightly mocking bow. ''I look forward to a duel where you are not hiding behind headstones.''

Harry gulped and tried to mentally ready himself. He hadn't been able to say his goodbyes to anyone. His friends were still searching the castle, blissfully unaware of Voldemort's arrival.

This was it, then? They would duel here, in front of the door to the real home they'd both ever had? Was this the last day he would spend on this earth? Should he die -and who was he kidding, even two years of training made him in no way as experienced as Voldemort-, would Hermione and Ron continue their task? His only hope was to do as much damage as he possibly could.

He had nothing to lose, only his own life. A life he'd been prepared to lose countless times already.

Trembling all over, he walked down the last steps and planted his feet firmly in the dirt, watching, waiting for Voldemort to make a move. He himself was too inexperienced to be the one to start flinging spells. The other man stood frozen, wand raised but not making any moves. Harry bit his lip, gaze wandering to Voldemort's forehead. This would be the very first encounter they'd have without their greeting. The Dark Lord had said only shortly ago that he was not allowed to mention it anymore… but it didn't** feel** right.

Usually, he could sense Voldemort's strong emotions. Anger, fear, elation even. It was harder to make out what the other felt now. There was no pain in his scar, instead an irritating itch. He heard other noises and risked a glance towards it source, seeing faces in the windows of the castle, students pressed up against the glass to watch. They'd been noticed, then. This would have to go quickly if he didn't want anyone to get involved…

''For old time's sake?'' Harry asked. ''One of us will die today, what good are appearances?''

''If this is a trick-''

''No tricks. There is nothing anymore, nothing but you and I. No aces up my sleeve, no magical items or a pet phoenix to save me last minute…'' Harry thought of the snitch that Dumbledore had left him, a snitch with a clue that he'd never been able to solve. There was so much he still didn't know, and probably never would. Voldemort had not found the Deathstick that Mr Ollivander had told Harry about, making his Horcruxes a priority, so Harry would never know how much of an influence that would have had. Dumbledore had never received revenge, for Snape, the traitor, was Headmaster now still. Several Horcruxes were somewhere out there, out of Harry's reach…

In this whirl of uncertainties, he wanted the one thing that he was familiar with. The one thing that gave him validation of why he was here. He walked towards Voldemort, limbs feeling as if someone had poured lead in them. Harry's arm dropped to the side, he could waste power later… later.

Their heads met, far gentler than ever before. Harry suppressed a sob that rose up in his throat. No matter the outcome, it would all be over after today. It all came down to them. No clashing armies or impenetrable fortresses, just them. Just Harry.

''I will need to kill you today.'' Voldemort's whisper was barely audible and sounded full of regret. ''I cannot avoid it any longer. You kept true to your promise, becoming far more dangerous than I could have imagined. The boy who stumbled on the stairs while trying to hide a stone from me is long gone… Yet you cannot hold up to me in a duel, Harry, we both know it. This country is mine, this castle is mine… I'll give you one last chance to give up and let it all go. Accept my victory, tell your friends to stand down and surrender. That is the only way you might live.''

''I can't,'' he answered, throat closing up. ''As long as you rule, you'll keep killing. I've seen your Muggleborn registry, I've seen the Dementors patrolling the streets, the gloom and destruction that spreads even across the Muggle world. You're poison.''

''I am a purge,'' Voldemort whispered, arms coming up to hold him gently. ''I shall choke the weeds and burn them down, so the worthy can blossom. If you could only see my vision, Harry. You could have been great.''

They broke apart with the greatest difficulty on both parts. They raised their wands. Harry hesitated a second too long as he caught ruby eyes that were full of an emotion he'd never imagined could be there…

The Killing Curse hit him with full force.

* * *

Steam rolled lazily over the white, clean platform where three figures were watching each other.

''I couldn't make a difference,'' Harry mournfully spoke, looking down on the strange baby that he was rocking in his arms. Its skin was red and raw, and it wailed as if in constant pain. ''Not a single bit.'' He raised his head, meeting Dumbledore's solemn stare. ''I couldn't make him mortal like you wanted, I screwed up completely. I truly believed that I-'' his voice broke and his hand, which had been stroking the Horcrux's bald head, stilled. ''I thought this Prophecy was real. That I could defeat him, I depended on it. I couldn't land even a single hit, what kind of pathetic duel was that?''

''You made all the difference,'' Dumbledore kindly spoke, sitting down on the bench next to Harry, only throwing the baby a wary look. ''Not all wars are won with violence. Some are won with love. You aren't dead yet, why do you think that is?''

Harry blinked, thrown off by the questions, tightening his hold on the Horcrux. ''Because of this?'' he hesitantly asked. ''I can't die until the piece of him in me dies first?''

''Partially, but not quite. Had Voldemort had the chance to strike you down in your first year, you very likely would have perished. Usually, a Horcrux dies with its vessel, not in its stead.''

''Then why…''

''It protected you, Harry. And it did so because you performed a larger miracle than I could have ever hoped for. Oh, I had plans, so many plans for all kinds of eventualities. I planned for you to find all the Deathly Hallows so you could master Death long enough to triumph Voldemort's twisted immortality. I planned for you to kill all of his Horcruxes before he could even find out about it. I even planned to have you realise that you'd have to sacrifice yourself without a fight to kill that last Horcrux… None of my plans were as grand as what transpired.''

Harry was at a loss for words, staring dumbfoundedly at Dumbledore, a man he'd trusted so deeply that he'd followed his instructions even in the face of death. ''What was in the snitch?'' he asked. It was such a small detail, but he had a feeling that this was his only chance to find out, and questions distracted him from growing uselessly angry at the Headmaster he'd regarded as a mentor this whole time.

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head, silver hairs waving in the slight wind that was present. ''Unimportant now. I never could let go of my past. Bury that snitch Harry, no-one needs it now.''

Trying to hide his disappointment over that non-answer, Harry spoke: ''I still don't understand what I supposedly have done. The hunt for the Horcruxes was incomplete and I will never be able to destroy the remaining ones. Even if this one dies now, the one I didn't know about, there is still the cup, the diadem, Nagini… who knows, he might make more.''

''The Horcruxes will disappear on their own. The only way to heal a soul is deep, intense remorse. You managed to make him feel that.''

''I did?''

''Harry, Tom was never loved. This is a harsh truth, but it is the truth nonetheless. His father rejected him, his mother blamed him, he always kept people at such a distance that he made not a single friend. His followers held more fear than respect and even the ones who agreed fanatically with his beliefs, like the Lestranges, were too lost in extreme obsession to show any form of love. He always despised the emotion in others, yet craved for nothing more.''

''But I don't love him either,'' Harry protested, feeling uncomfortable.

Dumbledore only hummed at that in a way that Harry felt like he was missing something. ''Love has many forms,'' the man finally said. ''He created his own rival, held onto that prophecy as if it was the most powerful thing in the world. He didn't even know the full lines and still managed to cling to it as if he did. He created his equal that night in you, and treated you with as much respect and care as he would have given himself in the years after. When you started to reciprocate that, the first seed was planted. Followers may have kissed the hem of his robes, but you were the only one to ever give him a comforting touch. Now, he can't live without you anymore, and his Horcrux recognised that. He regrets your death so deeply that he'd rather let a piece of himself die than to lose you. All subconsciously of course, but it** is** his own will.''

''So he… so he** loves** me now, is what you are saying?'' Harry exclaimed, standing up, still clinging to the baby in his arms. It stretched out a small, claw-like hand that caught a strand of hair and held onto it tightly. At a loss of what to even** think**, Harry stilled.

''As much as he can, yes,'' Dumbledore simply said. ''I also believe he isn't the only one in this who has feelings. You experienced love before of course, far different, perhaps more intense.'' Harry screwed his eyes shut. This couldn't be. He loved Ron and Hermione. He had loved Sirius. He loved** Ginny**. What he and Voldemort had shared was… was so far from any love he knew that it barely counted as such!

But he'd still looked forward to it, he realised with a shock. To an extent, he'd trusted Voldemort. The way they had embraced as rivals, even when based upon a lie neither of them had known about, had become a stone in Harry's life that was irreplaceable. Even before this last duel, it had been a relief to sink into the man's arms and share that moment.

He released a desperate cry.

''Love can be difficult, my boy,'' Dumbledore continued when Harry was done screaming. ''It is never as we expect it to be. I too loved a man who wasn't worthy of it. In the end, I denied all and destroyed us both. Your story need not end the way that mine did. Love can heal the hairiest heart,'' he smiled. ''If we only know how to give it.''

''How could I?'' the teen whispered. ''How could I even start to explain, to anyone?''

''Perhaps you can't. You know better than most how judging people are, the slightest misstep and the public sends poisoned letters. Should that stop you? Come, Harry, leave the Horcrux here. You have a train to catch. We both do.''

On either side of the station, a train very much alike the Hogwarts express rolled in. ''So this… can take me back?'' Harry asked with uncertainty, placing the Horcrux on the bench, wishing he'd have a cloak or something to cover the poor thing with.

''Back or forwards,'' Dumbledore nodded. ''I will not force you to go along with my plans once again, I can only give you advice, and I just did. Join me on my ride, and you might be reunited with your parents and other loved ones. Take the other and have one more adventure before the final one.''

The older man crossed the platform with a spring in his step, the doors of the train silently sliding open as he stepped through.

Harry hesitated, then made his choice.

* * *

Please read and review!  
-sorry for the open ending, I'd like to leave Harry's decision and the consequences of that to the imagination.-  
I hope you enjoyed reading this little story. I just couldn't rest this weekend until I had it written down after seeing that gorgeous rival greeting. We should bring that custom back haha.

xx Elfinmyth


	2. Epilogue 1 - Forwards

Soooo, as I got multiple requests about not leaving this story with an open ending... I wrote not one, but two endings (one sad, one happy, basically) to it so you can pick which one you like most. Or just read both of them if you'd like to.

The titles should be self-explanatory about which choice Harry makes :)

* * *

_Epilogue 1 - Forwards_

_''So this… can take me back?'' Harry asked with uncertainty._

_''Back or forwards,'' Dumbledore nodded. ''I will not force you to go along with my plans once again, I can only give you advice, and I just did. Join me on my ride, and you might be reunited with your parents and other loved ones. Take the other and have one more adventure before the final one.''_

Harry hesitated, weighing his options. A part of him wondered how much difference he could make if he would return, face Voldemort again…. A larger part of him didn't believe that it would make a difference. Whatever Dumbledore might think, or what Harry's feelings were, he could not see a future for himself back there.

Voldemort had killed so many people, he was well on his way on destroying the world that the Dark Lord thought he was protecting. Someone that far gone in delusions was surely only destined for doom. He'd already had a second chance, and a third, and more… Voldemort could have backed off from his path at any moment, taken the advice from Dumbledore to heart as Harry had. Yet Tom Riddle's hatred had been a stain that bled from the centre of his own heart, out into the rest of the world. It wasn't even a matter of whether he could still be saved or not… but a matter of if he deserved it. As much as Harry wanted to cling to the brief moments of when Voldemort had showed him vulnerability and courtesy, in the end he had to admit that he didn't think that the man did.

The Dark Lord's path to his downfall had started when he'd been a child still. Tormenting animals, hurting other children, manipulating adults, spreading death through Hogwarts before he'd even reached the age of seventeen… As long as Voldemort would live, the pain and murder would continue. Even remorse would not be able to change that.

If Dumbledore was right and the Horcruxes would disappear on their own now, then Harry had done his part and fulfilled the Prophecy. Perhaps his friends or other mages would be able to finish the last remaining part of the fearsome tyrant. If Harry were to return, he surely wouldn't be able to do it, not now. He really did belong more in Slytherin than in Gryffindor, he thought wryly, finally admitting something he'd tried to deny for years. A coward, running away from his own feelings. Still, he'd made his choice. Emerald eyes looked once more at the pitiful piece of soul on the bench, then Harry steeled himself and followed the Headmaster.

Voldemort had to die to restore peace and bring justice for all the pain he'd caused. Harry's conflicting feelings might ruin that for everyone. It was better to remove himself from the equation altogether.

Dumbledore looked briefly surprised when he noticed he'd been joined in the train compartment, yet didn't comment on it. ''Let us see together what is next,'' he kindly stated instead. ''I believe your reunion will be more joyful than my own.''

The teen's curiosity was piqued at that sentence, but he didn't pry. It felt indecent somehow to ask after the Headmaster's past that he knew nothing about, even now. They rode in silence for a while in the foggy, white train, until the light around them became brighter and brighter. Dumbledore's form unravelled before Harry's eyes, and when he looked at his own hands, so did they. The last he felt was a mixture of slight regret and anticipation of what was to come.

* * *

Blank faces, nervous whispers, traitorous thoughts.

Voldemort looked at his followers with distaste and resentment. They had thought him hurt at first, wounded from the battle with Potter. Everyone who had witnessed the duel bought the illusion he'd woven in their minds like gullible children, an illusion of a great fight without words exchanged. It was a slight disappointment that even the Death Eaters who had watched from the windows, the Carrows, had not been able to see through the ruse. As if he, the great Lord Voldemort, could have been injured by a mere child…

They had left him alone for a few weeks after as he'd locked himself up in the guest room he occupied at Malfoy Manor. He had to protect his Horcruxes, keep them close. None of his followers were allowed to see them now their existence was a known fact to even some of his enemies. There was something wrong with them, he noticed, and that thought agitated him more than anything else.

No, that was a lie. His main source of agitation was that removing the bane of his existence had not felt as glorious as it should have. Right before he'd shot the Killing curse, there had been a moment of weakness, expressed desires he'd barely thought about before. The image of the fiery teen at his side instead of opposing him, had been too tempting to resist speaking of. The crushing disappointment that followed rejection had been the only thing to give him the strength to cast an instant Killing Curse at the one who dismissed him and his visions so easily as** wrong**. Instead of the elation death usually brought, nothing but a hollow emptiness had washed over him as the boy had collapsed to the ground with lifeless eyes. He harshly rejected the memory of the slight stupor he had been in shortly after the kill, holding the corpse close, unidentifiable emotions causing drops to fall on the boy's face.

It was too late now to change, nor should he want to. So why did he feel this strange, pulling feeling in his chest? What** was** this?

After returning from his period of self-isolation, things were different somehow. He felt more tense than ever, anticipating being backstabbed at every turn. In each mirror, he imagined seeing a flash of emerald staring over his shoulder. Every evening, nervous fingers inspected the remaining Horcruxes, trembling more and more as the life seeped out of them. Books held no answers and neither did the minds of the many people he tore into to find the cause. Harry Potter haunted him even in death, and Voldemort became convinced that the boy had found a way to torment him even from the grave, stealing the soul from his Horcruxes like a Dementor kissed its victims.

The country belonged to him now, yet his own mind and soul did not. What was the use of ruling the Wizarding World if his primary goal, immortality, was in danger? Desperately, he tried to make another Horcrux, and another, and another, to make up for those he had lost, to grow the number to seven again. It mattered not. Within a few years, they too returned to nothing but common objects. And still he could see Potter's eyes staring at him from the mirrors with pity whenever he passed one in other homes. All those in Malfoy Manor were covered with sheets now. When he'd started doing so, Narcissa had been foolish enough to express her concerns. Now, he was the only one who occupied the house with its blood-smeared walls that he didn't bother cleaning.

After five years of futile delving into the darkest of arts to find a solution and having life slip away at his fingertips, he finally ripped away one of the sheets and stared in a mirror, acknowledging his delusions. It had been a long time since he'd seen himself, and not much was left. His face had been morphed so much that he could make out barely more than a skull with bright red eyes, and the rest of his body was so gaunt that even the tightest of robes pooled around him. He'd long given up on the outside world by now, hardly taking note of the news that some of his more persistent followers sometimes still insisted on bringing.

_~Harry~_, he rasped at the hallucination. He'd meant to say it in English, then recalled that since his last Horcrux creation, he hadn't been able to speak that anymore. His vocal cords had morphed too much to fit anything but the tongue of snakes.

The boy was there, in the mirror, and yet he was not, a mere figment of imagination. Somewhere, the last shreds of sanity recognised it for the trick of the mind that it was. The rest of Lord Voldemort was entirely entranced as Harry Potter stood where he'd just seen his own reflection. His claws scratched into the surface as he brought his face closer and mimicked their greeting by resting his forehead against the glass. It felt as if the hole in his soul closed just a little. _~What did you do to me?~_ he whispered, hoping that the mirror would provide answers.

Receiving none, he sank to the floor, looking up to the glass. _~I am mortal now like you wanted. I gave up on power like you wanted. I haven't murdered a single person in the past year. Even so, you are not here with me.~_

Somewhere behind him, he registered movement, though he couldn't tear his eyes away from the unruly black hair and accusing killing curse eyes that stared at him. Only vaguely, Lord Voldemort recognised the words being spoken behind him. Various voices, none which he was familiar with.

''What is wrong with him?''

''I hadn't expected this to be so anticlimactic…''

''Does he even know that a new Minister has been elected?''

''No-one must have visited this place in ages… no wonder the wards were in shatters.''

''We found the Horcruxes in the other room, not a single shred of magic remained in them.''

''Let's end this. It's due time.''

Lord Voldemort didn't react at all as he felt the tip of a wand pressing against the back of his neck. He only looked up to the mirror still, caressing its surface. _~Harry… I'm sorry I killed you.~_

In the split second before his execution, Voldemort finally recognised everything he hadn't before: why his Horcruxes were gone, why he felt tired and empty, and why he could finally accept death.

The Dark Lord's body slumped to the floor like any other mortal man's. His lips were curled into a blissful smile.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading and encouraging me to continue with this story.  
I hope you liked it and I apologise for any feels. If you want a happier ending, check out the next chapter ;P  
Please read and review!  
xx Elfin


	3. Epilogue 2 - Back

Here is the second version of the ending to A Rival's Kiss! It is the one I personally prefer (which might have something to do with why it is much longer than the first one)

Enjoy!

* * *

_Epilogue 2 – Back_

_''So this… can take me back?'' Harry asked with uncertainty._

_''Back or forwards,'' Dumbledore nodded. ''I will not force you to go along with my plans once again, I can only give you advice, and I just did. Join me on my ride, and you might be reunited with your parents and other loved ones. Take the other and have one more adventure before the final one.''_

Harry hesitated, still trying to take in the new revelations. None of the thoughts that popped into his mind made any sense. Another chance at life… but one where he'd have to live with the knowledge of that he could change Voldemort's insanity with **love**? Up until this moment, that notion hadn't even been on his mind** at all**. It was impossible, surely. Dumbledore always trusted in the power of love far too much…

Or did he? The Headmaster had been right in the end. Lily's love had protected Harry all those years, even through the sister who hated her. Now, it was Voldemort's love that created this opportunity at a second chance... for the both of them.

''Do you think he deserves it?'' Harry asked uncertainly. ''After everything? You once asked me with astonishment if I felt sorry for him. You would have done anything to remove Voldemort from this world.''

''I did not know then what I do now. I once said that the only cure for Horcruxes was feeling remorse. I only told you that because you asked, not because I believed it to be a possible outcome. His capability to feel reaches far beyond my expectations. I was a poor observer during my lifetime Harry, blinded by my own past. I never wanted to create another Dark Lord, but I am afraid that I may have done so. Had I believed in Tom more, who knows what would have changed.''

''You gave him chances. Many chances to tell you what was going on, to take your advice. Our upbringings weren't so dissimilar, yet I didn't turn out anything like him!''

''No, you did not,'' Dumbledore smiled with slight pride in his voice. ''You always stayed true to your heart. It is my belief that you should continue to do so.''

Harry closed his eyes. He should have expected such an answer from Dumbledore. He was so tired of running, of fighting, of bearing responsibility. Going forwards and never looking back sounded tempting. He might see his family again, his godfather, friends…

But it wouldn't be right. It would completely contradict everything he'd done before, all the times he'd thrown himself in danger for others. If there was even the slightest possibility of setting things right, it had to be grabbed with both hands. Voldemort was not beyond saving, no-one ever was. He would have to pay for his crimes, and so would his followers, but he didn't need to** die**.

''I'm going back,'' he spoke, taking a deep breath afterwards. This was it then. Whatever consequences would be waiting, it was better than moving on and remaining passive. There was a glimmer of hope on the horizon that came with this opportunity. If the Headmaster was right, Harry wouldn't need to worry anymore about Horcruxes or being killed. Perhaps he and everyone else from his generation would finally be able to enjoy life instead of playing soldiers in a war they'd been born into.

Looking up to Dumbledore, he asked: ''Will we meet again one day?''

''When the time will have come and you still wish to, I'll be waiting,'' Dumbledore smiled. ''This is only goodbye for now. Good luck.''

They walked to trains on the opposite end of the platform. Harry stopped only briefly to throw a last look at the wailing piece of soul he'd leave behind. How would things have turned out if he'd have realised much sooner that he'd become a Horcrux that fateful day? So many missed chances then… he wouldn't miss this one. He barely walked through the doors of the waiting train when he started hearing voices again and the world around him turned dark.

He slowly became aware of the damp ground he lay on, face-first. He shut his eyes and evened out his breath as a shadow fell over him and someone kneeled at his side, someone who made a strangled noise as they turned Harry over. The teen already knew who it was, and thought it better to let it sink into Voldemort for a while that he'd really committed another murder, for he had no idea how much time had passed. How long did remorse take to settle in? Had it already been there before the Killing curse had been fired? Would it fade instantly if the Dark Lord would notice he hadn't succeeded?

Cold arms hoisted him up and Harry found himself awkwardly held, half lying over the pair of bony upper legs of Voldemort's kneeling form, half pressed into the man's chest. Another anguished sound reached his ears, and something wet hit Harry's cheek. It was in that moment that Harry couldn't keep still anymore, eyes flying open with shock. For a moment, their gazes met, and there was nowhere for Voldemort to hide the tears that ran down his face. It was a terrifying sight, he looked feral with his glistening, crimson eyes, almost as if they were made of blood.

Harry cried out as he was dropped to the floor harshly when Voldemort jumped up, staring at him still. Despite the stinging pain that shot through his back at the impact, he scrambled to his feet again in moments, not wanting to waste precious time in which the other was still thrown off. To prevent the Dark Lord from going for his wand, Harry propelled himself forward and grabbed Voldemort's arms, crashing into him a tad more forceful than intended.

''Listen, we both have a choice here,'' he breathlessly spoke. ''I already made my decision, now the rest is up to you. Allow me to help you or kill me again. I'll stay dead this time and judging by your reaction, you don't want that.''

''How…''

''I'll tell you if you let me live and move us both away from here.''

He could see that his words intrigued the other. Voldemort wasn't used to being out of his depth, and desperately wanted to know what had just happened. Harry held that over him as bait.

As a yew wand was drawn, Harry stiffened, only relaxing marginally when Voldemort said: ''One moment,'' and pointed it at the castle. Dozens of faces were still pressed up to the windows and Harry could see the Carrows looking stupidly at them. The air shimmered and it was as if a transparent sheet covered the entire castle. Harry had never seen a spell of that magnitude.

''What is that?''

''We all have our secrets, it appears,'' was Voldemort's only comment. He then stiffly walked over to Harry and held out his arm. The streaks of tears that had stained pale cheeks before had mysteriously disappeared. Harry took the arm carefully, realising with slight unease that he was incredibly aware of them touching and how close they stood to each other.

''Before we go…'' he said, for he had no doubts that they were about to apparate to some unknown location. With Voldemort having the ultimate rule over Hogwarts at this point, he'd surely be able to negate the apparition wards. Wordlessly, the Dark Lord lowered his head in a fluid movement just as Harry raised to his toes, their foreheads meeting mid-way. It was more than it had been before, more than the symbol of rivalry they had both thought it to be.

It was only theirs now and could mean whatever they wanted it to.

* * *

Rumours ran rampant throughout the Wizarding World about the events that had transpired at Hogwarts. Witnesses told the Prophet of a great duel that had ended with both wizards vanishing amidst a display of wild magic. Encouraged by the fight, students and teachers took out their tormenters, taking back Hogwarts. Weeks passed without a word from either Harry Potter or the Dark Lord, weeks became months. The remaining members of the Order used the increasing chaos in the Ministry and Voldemort's ranks for a last desperate rebellion. They succeeded partially, being forced to retreat in the end, but not before convincing many others to join them now the Dark Lord was not in the picture.

Said man was far away, focusing on entirely different matters altogether, at the moment shattering every single piece of furniture around him.

''You won't get them back by being angry,'' Harry reminded him, leaning against the doorframe. ''I already** told** you over and over why the Horcruxes are losing life.''

Voldemort snarled and picked up Hufflepuff's cup. Dark liquid seeped out of the many cracks that had appeared. ''I'll make another then, enough to replace the ones I lost and the ones I am losing now. This is** your fault**.''

''Yes,'' the teen answered. The flat, tired tone made Voldemort pause and look up. ''If it makes you feel better, I'll take the blame. Who is at fault doesn't change that you won't be able to keep them anymore. The same will happen. If you'd actually listen to me for once, you'd be able to see it too.''

He felt very much for throwing another Killing curse at the blasted boy to see if he'd really stay dead. It was a feeling that faded quickly, and he carefully placed the bleeding cup on the floor as the table was in pieces. ''You said you'd help me,'' he accused.

''I'm trying to. The answer doesn't lie in immortality! You keep getting stuck on that over and over again! I know you are intelligent, so why can't you grasp this simple concept of that possibly, I can help you in more ways than trying to preserve the murder trophies that tore your soul apart!''

''If I do not solve this soon, the idiots that are on top now will destroy my country,'' he growled. ''I need to get back.'' All of this was ludicrous and as days passed, he didn't know anymore why he humoured the boy by staying here, cut off from the outside world as Harry had demanded in exchange for his 'help'. Without his guidance, the Death Eaters couldn't be trusted to keep on a straight path. The unworthy would gain strength again and spread their poison… Muggles would discover them, trample them.

''I do not need any other help than with healing my Horcruxes,'' he stubbornly hissed. ''You seem to forget that I** won**, Harry. The country is at my feet, I am revered, magic is spreading even into the Muggle world. You keep talking about forgiveness and second chances, but I cannot comprehend why. Everything is good as it is, I do not strive to gain the acceptance of the last few remaining people who refuse to acknowledge their place in this world. If you do not wish to recognise that, then perhaps you shouldn't have returned at all.''

He stared hard at emerald eyes in which he could see only pity, the last thing that he needed. '' I know you don't mean what you just said. I won't give up on you,'' the teen said, jaw hardening before he marched out of the room.

''I don't need to be saved!'' he yelled after the retreating form. ''Harry! Come back here this instant!''

Harry did not come back that day, but he did the day after, and the one after that. Months passed in a blur with Voldemort trying to save the last drops of life that tied him to this earth while Harry sat and watched, talking about everything and nothing. Voldemort had not forgotten about the rest of Britain, but it was only an afterthought on his weary mind. Each time that one of his vessels turned to nothing more than a common object in his hands, he despaired. So much so, that he failed to notice small aspects that changed in his life. The way magic flowed a tad more freely, or the way that his anger or occasional joy became more nuanced with time.

The last former Horcrux was Nagini. From the first day, she'd fallen ill. Her movements had been slow as she was in great pain, and she had refused to speak to him for most of the time they'd spent here. Storing his soul in her had been a grave error that she suffered greatly from. Seven months later, she was drained of any and all magic. The moment that the last drop left her, her form suddenly came to life again. Voldemort, who had prepared for the worst, watched in astonishment as she heaved herself up and curled around him for an embrace.

_~I thought you would die,~ _he spoke, uncaring that his voice broke slightly. Harry couldn't understand the language anymore now the Horcrux was gone, so none would ever have to know.

_~Me too~_ she hissed back. _~I am sorry, I could not protect you like you wanted. I tried to hold onto what you gave me.~_

_~You did well, Nagini. Rest now.~_

''She still lives,'' Harry spoke when they were lying on the large bed together afterwards. Voldemort didn't answer, staring at the pictures of his Muggle ancestors on the wall. He'd never expected to return to Riddle manor, least of all with his nemesis. There was nothing more natural now than to watch the boy run through the house as if he owned it. ''Other than what you would like to believe, getting rid of the Dark magic inside of her was a cure. I too feel less burdened nowadays than I used to.''

There were grains of truth in those words, which Voldemort was reluctant to admit. As more Horcruxes 'died', he felt more mentally stable than before, as if a fog had slowly lifted. When thinking it through now, he noticed one detail that he'd entirely overlooked before. Horcruxes died with their containers. They were so tied to the object that they became the object. However, all items were still intact, and both of his living Horcruxes were very healthy and alive.

''They didn't vanish, did they?'' he whispered, knitting his brow as he tried to understand. ''The last pieces of my soul.''

Harry turned over and looked at him with a smile. ''No, they returned to you. I'm sorry that you can never be** fully** complete again as some of them were destroyed. It was the best I could do.''

''You knew this would happen.''

Harry sighed. ''I didn't think you'd want to hear it. I'm surprised that, with how much you researched Horcruxes and soul magic, you never came across the cure for it.''

''I found it irrelevant, as I did not wish to reverse the process. The cure was self-sacrifice then? You made one of my Horcruxes commit suicide to save you?''

Harry gave a surprised laugh that should have grated his nerves yet didn't. ''No. That was only a symptom of something bigger that was going on. The cure for Horcruxes, the only way to merge them with you again is feeling deep, intense remorse for what you did. When you so strongly regretted killing me, everything started, for I was directly tied to you through that piece of soul, and with that tied to all the others.''

''And now I am mortal,'' he regretfully said. ''All of that work, reduced to nothing. I am left with less soul than I was born with.'' Harry said nothing to that, and Voldemort mulled over his own thoughts. The idea did not fill him anymore with such fear as it used to. Splitting his soul had still not prevented him from dying once and spending those hellish years as a spirit, and it had only served to kill him faster in the end as so many people seemed hell-bent on trying to destroy them. One piece had even killed itself… Had it been so wrong, not wanting to die? If so, what other ideas that he'd had were wrong?

''Harry…'' he started, reaching out for the other. His fingers caught a strand of unruly, black hair. It stood in stark contrast against his skin, which was still as bony white as before. Horcruxes were destructive, and the havoc that the ones he'd made had wrecked on his body would forever remain as a sharp reminder of his failures. ''Now they are gone… will you help me still?''

Harry moved against him, and he gratefully accepted the familiar weight of Harry's forehead against his. He tensed up with shock when it didn't remain at that and lips were pressed to his own as well. Three seconds later, Voldemort melted into the kiss.

* * *

The turn of the millennium was as good a time as any, Harry had thought. Now, nervously standing here in front of the closed door of a small apartment, the feel of bravery faded. He clutched the letter in his hands and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. He winced as a lot of noise and shouting could be heard from beyond the door. It was slammed open, and he was met with two wands in his face.

''Whoa, whoa!,'' he exclaimed, hastily stepping back. ''Try not to poke my eyes out please! It would be very ironic if I survived the war unscathed, only to be blinded by you guys.'' He looked up, waiting for at least** some** sort of reaction from either Ron or Hermione other than the stupefied looks on their faces. ''Err, I thought you knew I was coming?'' he asked uncertainly, holding up the letter.

''Mate, we've thought you dead for three years. We…'' Ron threw Hermione a desperate look. ''We didn't know if this wasn't some sick joke or a trap. There are still a few Death Eaters who managed to escape and whom we only hear rumours about.''

''Very true, we couldn't be too careful,'' Hermione nodded, still looking wary. ''Especially with my job, I've made quite some enemies recently since moving to the Department of Magical law enforcement.''

Now it was Harry's turn to be gobsmacked. ''You work at the Ministry? I thought you told Scrimgeour to shove it when he suggested you'd work in Magical Law. Well, in politer words.''

No sooner had he finished the sentence, did he have a pair of arms around him and a bunch of hair pressed against his face. ''It** is** you. Oh Harry! Where have you** been**? Why didn't you ever contact us? There were such wild stories about your last battle with Voldemort, about how the both of you vanished… We always kept hoping, of course…''

''I think we'd all like to know that,'' another familiar voice spoke, and he looked past Hermione's shoulders to Lupin. Now that had a better view of the corridor they stood in, he saw that much of it was taken up by Order members: Lupin, Tonks, even Shacklebolt was there. It was a massive weight off his back to see them all unharmed and well.

''You sure were careful,'' he said, although he couldn't stop smiling. All those years, he'd mostly been plagued by the thought of that his friends were still in danger from Voldemort's rampant followers, even if the Dark Lord himself was out of the picture. ''It's a long story. And while I appreciate seeing all of you, I would really rather first discuss it in private with Hermione and Ron. The only thing I can tell all of you is that I've been in hiding and completely cut off from the Wizarding world. I literally haven't heard any news or messages until I received this letter.'' He held up the piece of parchment again on which Hermione had written her short invitation in answer to the letter he'd sent her.

Despite protests - especially from Molly, who insisted on first making Harry a bite to eat - the others were quickly shuffled either through the floo or out of the door, until he was alone with his friends. ''I'm sorry,'' was the first thing he said once they were seated. He stared into the cup of tea that had been pressed into his hands. He hadn't drunk any for a long time. Voldemort was more of a coffee-person and Harry just drank whatever was in the house. ''I wish I could have contacted you sooner.''

''Were you in danger?'' Ron asked, who sat opposite him.

''Not quite, but I made a promise and stuck to it, to not put** others** in danger.'' He looked up at his friend, then his eye fell on a picture frame behind the redhead. It was moving and showed his friends in fancy robes, being showered with petals. ''You're married?'' he exclaimed, snatching Ron's hand and staring at the ring. ''You're married? To each other? When did that happen?''

Ron's ears became pink instantly and he looked a bit sheepishly. ''Err, well things were pretty hectic after you were gone. We went on another country trip, just the two of us, trying to find the remaining Horcruxes. Weren't successful,'' he admitted, looking rather down.

''I know, it's fine,'' Harry said, waving it away.

''Oh. Okay. So, we came across this band of rogue Death Eaters who were still trying to hold control of several villages. Right, I suppose you don't know anything about what happened?'' When Harry shook his head, he continued. ''Long story short, the same happened as the first time that You-Know-Who disappeared. His followers couldn't keep the rest of us oppressed for long, Hogwarts was reclaimed the day that you disappeared and the Ministry followed soon after. There were occasional attacks, but the Aurors caught them one by one. Fewer are free than last time, Shacklebolt is Minister now and he knew from the Order who the real Death Eaters were. Those who bought their way out of Azkaban last time are behind bars now.''

''As Ron was trying to say before he went off-topic,'' Hermione spoke up, ''during one of the attacks, Ron and I came very close to losing each other and we realised our feelings pretty much at the same time. We confessed in the middle of a battle, and haven't regretted it since. We married last autumn, only a couple of months ago. We'd planned on marrying earlier, but didn't really want to tie the knot without you there… Then after no-one had heard a word from you for so long, we figured it was time to move on.''

''Reminds me that we'll have to dig up your grave now,'' Ron joked.

''Memorial!'' Hermione scolded him. ''A grave would only have been placed after seven years of disappearance.''

Harry sat back and grinned as they bickered like usual, sipping his tea until they calmed down and shifted their attention to him again.

''So what about you? Why all the mystery?''

''Do you remember all the times where Voldemort had the opportunity to kill me, then didn't? It's tied to that a bit, as well as that strange greeting we always had, the one that turned out to be a hoax.''

He told them, as detailed as possible, about that final 'battle' and his conversation with Dumbledore -although he left out the bit about love-. When he finished and came to the part where they'd apparated away, his friends looked like statues. Still, he kept talking. ''We moved a couple of times at first. Then, we settled in his old house for months, the one in Little Hangleton. He tried to keep his Horcruxes from dying, while I distracted him and tried to speed up the process by staying near him. At long last, when they were all absorbed, he was much saner than before, and not beyond help still. There were too many memories in Britain though, and I couldn't trust him not to start another war. After all, even before he split his soul, Voldemort did awful things. So, we moved to Belgium, in the middle of a large Muggle city where he could observe them in a non-hostile environment. I figured that most of his hatred for Muggles stemmed from fear due to mistreatment and rejection. I've been working to cure his phobia.''

''You… you've been… getting You-Know-Who** therapy**?'' Ron choked.

''It's not a bad idea,'' Hermione mused. ''Recent studies show that rehabilitation is far more effective than punishment for criminals. I can't imagine that you'll find much support for it in the Wizarding World however. Punishment here has always been extremely harsh, and he murdered hundreds of innocents while plotting the genocide of non-magical folk.''

''I thought it would be the best solution,'' Harry shrugged. ''Thing is, even though he is mortal now, we don't know how long he'll live. Some wizards became hundreds of years old and he is still extremely powerful. Even if we'd imprison him, it's not unlikely that he'd break out at some point. And I firmly believe that killing would be only a last resort in self-defence. Now that I knew that he could change, I wanted to try. Also, try to catch him! One wrong move on my part and he would have returned to the old ways. He wasn't exactly my prisoner, it all depended on how strong his belief and trust in me was. He's been surprisingly cooperative actually, only threatened to leave a few times. Although he still refuses to use the mobile phone that I gave him,'' Harry grinned. It died down a bit when he received two looks that made him wonder if he'd grown a second head.

''The reason I couldn't contact you is mostly because I didn't want him to get any outside influence from his followers. So, we made a deal: he would only stay in the Muggle world if I did too. No newspapers, no letters, nothing that could tie us to the magical world. It was only a bit of a shame as it even prevented me from going to Gringotts. Without a degree or valid identification, I've had to work many different menial jobs to pay the bills. Thankfully, I didn't have the trace on me anymore by then and could go around unnoticed.''

''Why did you come back now then? Hermione asked, clearly worried. ''Did something happen? Is he returning after all?''

Harry shook his head. ''We talked a few times about when to return to the Wizarding World. I always knew that I couldn't keep him away forever, and neither did I want to pretend to be a Muggle for much longer. A lot changed in the past years, really. He isn't homicidal anymore for one. I… I think it's time. Of course, no-one will ever know that he's back,'' he hastily added when seeing their horrified expressions. ''We've worked on creating a new identity. He picks up whatever he reads with insane speed, and he's had little else to do than reading. There were, per our agreement, no books on magic available, so he usually picked the next best topic that interested him, which was biology and medicine.''

Ron seemed confused still, but Hermione's eyes widened, and she choked out: ''You can't say that he'll pretend to be a Healer!''

''He won't have to pretend. He was already good in most aspects of magic, including healing. With over two years of meticulously studying the topic from the Muggle side of things, I daresay that you'll find few better Healers in this world than Voldemort.''

''This is insane,'' Ron muttered, shaking his head, although he looked slightly awed. ''Only you Harry. Only you would be able to convert a murderer and get him into healing of all things.''

''The only problem is,'' Harry spoke, shuffling a bit in his seat, ''He hasn't really interacted with anyone but me, and a few Muggle friends of mine while he was disguised. I have no idea how he will react to being among magical people again. I don't want to cause relapses by suddenly dragging him in a room filled with mages. So… I need a favour.''

His friends exchanged a glance of despair.

* * *

Less than an hour after they had agreed to cancel the previous arrangement, Harry had contacted his friends. Of course. Voldemort did nothing, only sitting by the fireplace with Nagini on his lap, waiting for the other to leave. For Harry would leave as soon as he received word back, that much was obvious.

He himself felt much less like returning to the Wizarding world than he'd thought, afraid of what he might find and what his opinion on it would be. He'd prefer to find out the fate of his country in a safe environment instead of apparating to the houses of his followers in hope of being greeted back. In all the talks with Harry recently, both of them had silently embraced the scenario of that his work had been undone much like last time he'd vanished. Strangely, he probably could live with that better than if his followers hadn't crumbled in his absence. He had plans now, so many plans after he somewhat got used to living in the Muggle world, talking to Muggles at times even. So many paths opened up if he wouldn't be Lord Voldemort anymore…

But he also could not deny that in the unlikely case that he returned and found everything as he left it, with his Death Eaters having control over the Ministry, he wouldn't give up the past years in a heartbeat again. Harry wanted to deny it, pretend that bringing his soul back together somehow made him a good person, yet Voldemort knew that this couldn't be the case. He'd been out for blood before he'd made his first Horcrux. If the opportunity presented itself, he'd rule again.

It was a precarious situation. So he sat there, waiting, until many hours later he heard a joyful cry from Harry as one of his friends apparently sent back a positive reply. Voldemort felt only marginally less cold inside as Harry came over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before swinging on a travel cloak and heading outside. Then, he slowly came to life.

It didn't take much to gather what he wanted: he'd perfected using a spell to disguise himself during the time in the Muggle World, as they could not gather ingredients for a Polyjuice potion with the  
no contact rule in place. After donning the persona he usually used now, it was as easy as a single apparition to get back to magical Britain. International apparition had never posed much of a hurdle to him. Rather than speaking to anyone, he merely held his head low as he crossed Diagon Alley to enter Flourish and Blotts, buying all of the recent editions of the Daily Prophet and a few other magazines they had in stock. He paid for them with a few dusty sickles he'd still had on him all those years and never had had the opportunity to spend. As soon as he could, he vanished again and returned to the familiarity of their apartment.

Some of Harry's friends and colleagues had mentioned how strange their decoration was, but Voldemort had refused to tone it down. Even if they had to live in the Muggle world, nothing would keep him from tying bushes of dried herbs to the ceiling and creating at least some magical significance with candles, stones and rune spells on the walls. Let them think they were into some crazy occult things, he didn't care. He breathed in the spicy scents of home and sat down at the dining table, spreading open the first newspaper, eyes hushing over the headings of the front page.

_House prices in Hogsmeade finally on the rise again!_

_Possible Death Eater sighting close to Hogwarts_

_Is interim Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt holding his position too long?_

_Former Host of Potterwatch dies in tragic motorcycle accident_

Those four articles, and especially the fact that the main article was about house prices with death eaters and order member having three small columns on the bottom of the page, said more than any living person could have explained to him about the current situation. Voldemort took a deep breath and tried to calm his thoughts while squashing the last piece of lingering hope that he could ever be heralded as a saviour again by his followers. It hadn't lasted, once again. The Wizarding world remained blind to the threat of Muggles, and tried everything to solve matters peacefully.

Fine. He was done trying to sacrifice his entire life towards a goal no-one could appreciate. Even Harry still didn't see his reasoning, and Voldemort himself had started to doubt several of his own views as well. The most radical change being that he acknowledged grudgingly now that not all muggles would reject or mistreat mages. They were very much individuals too, with flaws and strengths. People, albeit dangerous people in large groups.

''Let it happen then,'' he whispered vengefully, staring down hard on the picture of a smiling Shacklebolt. ''I know I am not responsible for what happens to the lot of you anymore.''

He could hear the cracks of apparition in the garden outside, and looked up as Harry walked through the back door. What he hadn't expected, was to see two of Harry's friends in tow. He was instantly on his feet, a tight grip on the handle of his wand, which he had half-raised in a threatening gesture. Both of them looked frightened half to death already in that instant, which still didn't serve to calm him down.

''You are not welcome here,'' he barked at them.

''I invited them,'' Harry calmly spoke, stepping forward. ''They're not here to attack you, they came on my request.''

Voldemort felt a sting of betrayal. ''Had I brought one of my Death Eaters in here…'' he hissed.

''Then I would have reacted in much the same way as you do right now, I realise that. Which is why I'm not angry, or even surprised. Come on, I'll make you a cup of coffee.'' Harry's eyes wandered to the table behind him and rested on the newspapers. ''I'll make it a strong one,'' the man muttered, concern in his bright green eyes. ''Hermione, Ron, please sit down.''

Still annoyed at Harry for not even informing him before, Voldemort fought the urge to follow his partner and instead sat down with Harry's friends, slightly curious about the whole situation. It was clear that both of them wished to be anywhere else right now and had only come as a favour to Harry.

''He really does have a way of convincing others to do things they don't want, doesn't he?'' he spoke airily. The woman let out a slightly shaky giggle.

''That's Harry alright. You too huh?''

''Obviously.''

They sat in rather awkward silence until Harry came back, who chatted rather loudly as he gave each of them coffee as if nothing at all was wrong in the world. Voldemort clamped his hands over the warm cup just to avoid the urge to grab his wand again and fidget with it. ''So, Ron and Hermione got** married**! Didn't want to wait until I showed my face again apparently. Hey Ron, did your mum make as much of a fuss over it as with Bill's wedding?''

''A bit less now we didn't have to worry about Death Eater attacks,'' Weasley muttered, shooting him a glare over the edge of his cup.

''It was lovely!'' Granger continued, giving her husband a nudge, although her own voice also shot up high with nerves. ''A bit quieter than Bill's, I managed to offend Aunt Muriel so much a week prior that the old hag didn't attend, to everyone's relief. And Ginny made a beautiful bridesmaid again…'' she then trailed off and gave Harry a guilty look that Voldemort narrowed his eyes at.

''Ginevra Weasley?'' he spoke in an ice-cold tone that would have done a Dementor proud. ''I've heard… so many** lovely** things about her from Harry.''

''Well, she is a lovely person,'' Harry stubbornly said, which did not improve his mood. He swallowed a snappy comment, which the other clearly picked up, for he sighed and came over, balancing a bit uncomfortably on the armrest of the armchair Voldemort sat in. ''Look, I know this may not be the greatest idea I ever had, but I wanted you to at least speak to some people before you… I don't know, get confronted with hundreds of wizards and witches who won't even know who you are. In front of them, you at least don't have to hide.''

''I only have to hide in the first place because you wouldn't leave me alone and made me abandon everything,'' he bit, although he did feel a bit better now Harry was sitting on his side instead of with Granger and Weasley. He grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it. ''Not your finest idea indeed. I would have appreciated speaking to you alone about my… discoveries, before talking to anyone.''

''We could leave…'' Weasley hopefully suggested, but he stayed put as his wife pinned him down with a stern look.

''I… I understand that this may be difficult,'' she started. ''As we were on opposite sides, but if you can accept Harry, I hope you will not find it too problematic to do the same with us.'' The tone she spoke in made it sound as if she were talking to a wounded animal that was about to lash out. ''You clearly mean a lot to Harry, else he would not have left us.'' Her gaze rested on their intertwined hands. ''He told us that you are thinking of a career in healing?''

He relaxed a bit, finding ease in the topic of the area he'd studied here. ''I debated about options of what to do after, and I figured that this is one of the few careers where I am legally allowed to cut people open,'' he said in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit further. The stomp he received to his shoulder and a hastily explained 'He's joking, totally joking' from Harry was a clear warning that Granger and Weasley were incapable of understanding cynical humour. Why did Harry put up with these people?

Since they were all still sitting together though, he decided to be the better man and reach out once more, seriously approaching conversation this time and speaking of the various books he'd read and the Muggle doctors he had spoken to. Harry had worked as a cleaner in a hospital for a while until they found out his id was faked and Voldemort had picked him up from work a couple of times just to get a breath of fresh air and take a look inside the hospital. It was still easy to charm people into telling him whatever he wanted them to when they didn't know who he was, and he'd even received a demonstration of an x-ray machine. As he spoke, Granger lost her fake polite tone and actually got excited herself, speaking of the times she'd helped her parents, who were dentists. It was one of the least interesting fields when it came to magical medicine, as teeth were fixed with quick spells, but Voldemort had also read sections about it and it was astonishing how much there was to the Muggle side of orthodontal medicine.

''Your parents…'' he spoke suddenly, quietly. ''They are both Muggles yes?''

Granger instantly became wary, and defensively said: ''What of it?''

''How did they treat you after they found out you were a witch?'' It was still the one sore point, the one thing in his original agenda that even Harry at times had to agree to considering his own upbringing at the Dursleys. Every Pureblood knew that muggles had no business raising magical children, and that belief had been proven right over and over by many examples. Muggle parents were a large reason for some people joining his cause, such as Severus Snape, who had been terrorised by his Muggle father the moment Tobias Snape knew he'd married a witch.

''They… they tried to be openminded,'' Granger carefully spoke, frowning. ''I won't lie and say everything was perfect, or that all Muggles understand their magical children as well as magical parents do. However, I firmly believe that it is not only their fault. They are cut off from most of the world I live in, they are not allowed to visit places like Hogwarts or the Ministry of Magic, they can't be involved as much in my life as they should to support me, especially during my Hogwarts years. With the restrictions given, they did their best, and still do. It sometimes frightens them, what I can all do, but I think they are more afraid of accidentally using my abilities for themselves. I once offered to help them in the clinic with a little bit of magic and they strongly refused as they didn't want to exploit my powers, not because they didn't trust me to be able to help. Overall, my parents have been very accepting, doing what they could to understand me. They definitely support my career and tried to befriend my parents-in-law.''

''Which wasn't hard as my dad adores anything Muggle,'' Weasley spoke up, smiling at his wife. The ginger then looked at Voldemort. ''I know through Harry that you… you haven't had the best experienced with Muggles. But Hermione's parents, and many others, are really great. Not every one of them would reject magic or greedily try to get it for themselves.''

''I know that now,'' Voldemort muttered. He'd gone to dinners with Harry's Muggle friends, they'd been at the house and once he'd even joined a pub evening. Still, it always felt off, disconnected. He felt like they were playing pretend too much and that all of those nice, laughing people could turn cold and murderous when knowing of their abilities. ''I still wish to have as little to do with muggles as I can in the future,'' he admitted. ''Though I won't try to blame them anymore for all the world's shortcomings. If one day it turns out that I was right all along and Muggles wipe us all out, I can worry about it then. For now, I'll let it rest and hope I was wrong.''

Their guests left about an hour after, although only once Harry has assured them he wouldn't disappear off the face of the earth again and to visit soon. Only Weasley flinched a bit when shaking his hand at the departure. Voldemort wouldn't admit out loud to Harry just yet that he was looking forward to speaking to them again. Instead, they lay in bed for a good while and enjoyed each other's company.

''Did you tell them that we are together?'' he asked suddenly, stroking Harry's cheek with a single finger.

''Hmm… I thought it better that they meet you first before I tell them. I didn't want them to think you'd bewitched me or something, or that I was letting my feelings get the better of me.''

''Aren't you?'' he asked, hovering over his partner and pressing a kiss to his neck. ''Are you not letting your heart rule your head when it comes to me? You didn't try to save any of my followers, only me. I am responsible for far more crimes than most of those were that are imprisoned now.''

Harry embraced him and gave a tight hug. ''As soon as you hear of a prophecy predicting that I have to vanquish Gregory Goyle, let me know.'' Voldemort gave a short laugh and pulled away. ''Besides, I only found out they got together after they were married! Maybe I shan't tell them anything about us until they figure it out themselves either out of spite!''

''What, until we're married?'' he said, loving how even through his partner's beard stubble, he could see reddening skin.

''If that is a proposal, it is a bad one.''

''I've never been very** good**.''

''Agreed, you're the worst. I still accept.''

''You agree with me? Miracles will never cease.''

''Shut up and kiss me again.''

* * *

Thank you all so much for reading and encouraging me to finish this story properly!  
Please Read and Review to let me know what you thought about it!  
xx Elfin


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